Soon
Disclaimer: See Ficlet 1
Author's Note: Inspired by this sketch of Hermione by the oh-so-talented Demosthenes: http://www.livejournal.com/users/demosthenes91/21933.html#cutid1 -so this is for her. *hugs Tara*
And posting fluff to wish my very dear and very brilliant Gil, aka Romulus Lupin, a very happy birthday!!! *glomps Gil*
Three fluff ficlets, all related. PoV changes- but it should be obvious from the beginning whose PoV it is.
~~~
Soon
You know that look on her face she gets when she reads one of your or Ron's essays and there's one of those (in her mind) ridiculously mistaken statements in there.
You're watching for it now as she skims through your latest paper for Potions-you'd written it in the middle of the night last night when you woke up and couldn't go back to sleep and you have no doubt you wrote a lot of nonsense as your only purpose in writing was to make the essay the required length.
And then it comes. The little crease between her brows, the way she wrinkles her nose slightly- the expression that almost makes it look like she's smelled something that disagreed with her, but is, right now, an indication that she's partly confused, partly amused, partly irritated at the gibberish you've written and that she's now having to read.
And you duck your head to hide your half-sheepish grin. You'd known she'd get that look on her face. And part of you even tries to write things which you know are wrong just to see that look on her face.
That part of you that made you give a thousand Galleons of the unwanted (undeserved) prize money from the Tri-wizard Tournament (blood money, you think, with a slight shudder) to the twins just to help them make people laugh-the part of you that can't help but seek out the fun and the humor in just living when every day it seems you hear more news of death and war and battles and danger.
But even after all the war-time, some things haven't changed.
She still reads over your papers-even without your asking her to-still makes corrections when necessary, suggestions. You still don't know how you'd manage to be keeping up in your classes on top of the war preparation going on if it weren't for her. (Then again, you still don't know how you'd really do anything, how you'd still be alive, if it weren't for her.) You still don't quite understand her love of books or the library.
And you still get a fluttery sort of feeling when you see her smile. You still try, going out of your way, to make her smile-because there are times when you think that her smile might be the only bright thing in an otherwise dark world.
And so you almost intentionally slip mistakes into your essays sometimes-just to see that look on her face.
You don't tell her this, of course. It's your secret.
So you hide your grin when you see her wrinkle her nose in that way before scratching something on the parchment with her quill-and you think, she really is so- well, cute- when she does that.
And maybe- one day- you'll act on the impulse you always get when you see that look on her face- and just kiss her.
She's still wrinkling her nose like that as she reads on-and you think, soon. You'll kiss her-soon…
~*~*~
Where You Belong
You always read over his papers for him. It's just one of those things you do (and by now, it's almost as much of a habit for you as worrying about him is)-and you don't mind, not like you sometimes mind reading over Ron's essays because Harry tends to care more but mostly because Harry always looks slightly sheepish and grateful for the help, unlike Ron who seems to take it as his due.
You pause, reading over the sentence. You can feel the frown on your face, the look of confusion and some incredulity as you wrinkle your nose automatically.
"Harry," you begin, "what is this? You just wrote that boomslang skin is an essential ingredient in only the Paralysis Potion and I know you know better. Boomslang skin is a key part of lots of potions, including the Polyjuice Potion! You know that, I know you do! I--" You stop, because you've finally looked up at him after correcting the sentence and you see it.
He tries to hide it but you see it-he's trying to hide a smile-and you see, too, a flash of guilt in his eyes. He tries to look chastened but you know him too well.
You narrow your eyes. "Harry," you start slowly, voicing your suspicion that's rapidly becoming a certainty, "You made that mistake on purpose."
He doesn't say anything but he refuses to meet your eyes too. And you know.
"You did do it purposely! Why?" you demand, though without anger. "It couldn't have been just to annoy me because you're not like Ron and you wouldn't do that." You pause, feeling a sudden pang of hurt, of suspicion. "You wouldn't, would you?" You hate the thread of uncertainty in your voice-but this is Harry and you've never been able to not care about anything he does. This is Harry and you've always been vulnerable where he's concerned somehow.
Now he looks up, his cheeks tinged with red but his eyes clear and direct. "No! It- it wasn't-I--" he flounders and you suddenly realize it doesn't matter. You know whatever reason he had, it wasn't to annoy you and you could never be really angry at him for something so small.
"It's okay," you say. "Never mind."
But he interrupts, the words coming from his mouth quickly, without thought, as if he just had to say them. "It- it was because I wanted to see that look you get on your face when you wrinkle your nose. 'Cause you, well, you look cute when you do that and I like to see it," he finishes quickly, his voice dropping until you can barely hear the last words.
He looks at you-looking a little nervous, a little guilty, a little sheepish, and a lot adorable. And you can't help but smile, even as your heart gives an almost reluctant flutter of pleasure at Harry saying he thinks you're cute. (Cute-from any other boy, you'd probably have been insulted but from Harry, it's a compliment and you can't help but like it.)
You can't help but smile-and then before you realize what he's thinking or have any time to prepare, he leans forward, one hand going up to touch your cheek, and he kisses you. His lips touch yours, for just a moment, and it's a little awkward and a lot surprising and when it's over, you're half-convinced you only imagined it. (Goodness knows it wouldn't be the first time you've imagined Harry kissing you.)
But your lips still feel a little tingling, you can still feel the fleeting warmth of his breath on your cheek-and you see the uncertainty in his eyes and you know it really happened.
Harry really did just kiss you.
You smile and, before you can chicken out, you kiss him quickly on the lips too.
He freezes, just staring at you until you can see the beginnings of a smile in the back of his eyes.
Your eyes meet his; you smile-again-before turning your attention back to his essay.
Then his warm hand covers yours as it rests on your knee.
You look up at him to meet his eyes and you see-something-in them, something warm and deep and sincere, something more than friendship.
And you know he can see all that you feel for him in your eyes too. Because he's somehow always been able to understand what you're thinking or feeling by looking at you.
And for that moment, you're completely happy. There's nothing else you want or need and nowhere you'd rather be than here in this deserted back corner of the library-with Harry. Always with Harry-where you belong.
~*~*~*~
Because of Her Smile
He didn't plan to kiss her.
It just sort of happened.
He had blurted out his reason for purposely making a mistake in his essay because he couldn't bear to hear that tiny note of uncertainty in her voice-and then she smiled.
And her smile- as always- just affected him because she was so pretty when she smiled and he had been thinking how cute she could look and how she made him feel and… And when he saw her smile he just couldn't help it.
He did it because of her smile-the way it curved her lips and brightened her eyes and made him think of hope and friendship and all the things in the world he cared about…
It was an impulse, one he just acted on, forgetting to think. So he leaned forward until his lips brushed hers and he could feel the softness of her lips and her cheek under his fingers, the warmth of her breath, smell the familiar combination of books and ink and soap and shampoo mixed with some other smell that was just her…
Before his mind intruded and he stopped, suddenly realizing just what he was doing.
He was almost afraid to look at her, afraid of what he might see-but finally he did look at her and saw her smile.
His heart stopped and then leaped and then before his brain could form anything approaching a coherent thought, her lips were on his again. Quickly, fleetingly, but surely and lingering just enough to make his heart start racing, his breath catch.
She had kissed him. Hermione had kissed him. Hermione had kissed him.
He could feel the beginnings of a goofy grin on his face as he looked at her-so familiar and so dear-when had she suddenly become so important, so precious? When had she gone from being just Hermione, his best-friend-who-happened-to-be-a-girl, to being Hermione, the girl?
He didn't know; he just knew she was.
She had gone back to reading over his essay-what would he do without her?
So he just moved his hand to rest on hers- a simple touch that still changed things as he'd never done such a thing before.
She looked up and he could see-something-in her eyes, something that warmed his heart and told him more than anything else just how much she cared about him…
And he was happy.
For that moment, the Prophecy, Voldemort, the war-nothing mattered. He was with Hermione-and he was happy.